Sedona Sunrise
by TekniCAL
Summary: One-Shot Submission for the EricStravaganza Cowboy Up! Contest - Sookie & Amelia take a vacation to the Desert Southwest in search of yummy cowboys and a little emotional healing.


**Eric and Sookie: Cowboy Up! One-shot Contest**

**Title: Sedona Sunrise**

**Your Pen name: TekniCAL**

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the intellectual property of Charlaine Harris. All songs titles mentioned in this story are the intellectual property of their creators. I claim no ownership.**

**A/N: Thank you to my very patient Beta VampLover1 who really took the bull by the horns and showed 'em who's boss with this story. She also is a finalist in the Eric's Great Pumpkin Contest, so go vote here: **http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2089903/

**BUT read my story first! Thanks y'all!**

**PS: 'Hiking the Appalachian Trail' is a new euphemism for being a cheating spouse thanks to S. Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford who told everyone that was what he was doing, when he was actually in another country visiting the mistress. Ooops! **

Bill was new in town. And when he walked in to Merlotte's, the local restaurant that I co-own with my best friend (and first boyfriend) Sam Merlotte, I was immediately drawn to him. He is tall (but under 6 feet), dark and handsome. Just my type. Not that I have a type per se. But relationships are hard to come by in a small town. Other than brief stints with Sam, Quinn and JB (which all ended painfully, or at least awkwardly, before high school graduation), there wasn't much to my romance resume.

Finally though, it seemed the planets had aligned in my House of Amours. Bill was the ticket to a new outlook. Life in this po-dunk town held so many unpleasant memories, but with Bill here, it seemed things were finally looking up.

That is, until I found out that Bill, man of my dreams, was actually Bill, cheating, two-timing, married bastard. It was like one of those Dr. Phil episodes. I should have known he was too good to be true, should have asked questions…Blah. Blah. Woulda, shoulda, coulda.

To make matters worse, the unfaithful prick was not even remorseful and actually had the nerve to blame everything on _me_. He proclaims I took advantage of his "weakened" state while settling into a new town without his wife. And that I made him fall for me when all he meant to do was establish residency in his ancestor's small town and fix up the dilapidated homestead he had recently inherited.

He contends he was simply seeking new friendships, stranger in a strange town, etc. He certainly had a different way of welcoming friends! Offering your penis up to the most available girl in town certainly gets you friends! Gah!

The wife's behavior takes the cake, though. What a bitty ol' vamp. A down-right Ho (to borrow a word from Lafayette, Merlotte's resident chef). Now that she is here in town, she is going along with Bill's story! Around town she plays the act of tortured, forgiving spouse. It's like she took classes from a politician's wife: "_How to stand behind your cheatin' husband and spin it to your advantage 101._"

All the town gossip and general heartbreak is just weighing on my psyche. So Amelia, my best friend and town travel agent, decided we needed a trip! A girl's trip to some place far away, but not too far, because we just can't afford anything too fancy with the flailing economy and small town pay.

She brought home several brochures of vacation packages that haven't been selling all that well. She is bouncing with excitement over this "Spiritual Renewal" retreat in Sedona, Arizona. Amelia says not only is it a beautiful place in the Southwestern desert, but it's also the self proclaimed metaphysical capital of the world. Amelia believes Sedona can heal both body and soul. And there are _cowboys_! She knows I've always had a secret fetish for cowboys.

Well then, let's cowboy up!!

xxxxx

After the torturous two hour drive from Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, we finally arrive in Sedona. What a sight! Giant red rock formations are rising up from the valley floor, towering over everything. They are so different in shape and size. You know how you can make shapes out of clouds if you use a bit of your imagination? It's like you can do that with the configuration of the landscape here.

The blue sky matched against the red rock is just breathtaking. Unlike Louisiana where there are tall trees limiting your visibility, the sky here seems to go on for miles. And the vegetation is so different. Where Bon Temps trees are tall and full, the trees here are shorter, thornier looking and don't seem to provide much shade. All the plants seem to have a warped, roughness and toughness to them. I guess they need to be that way, in order to survive the intense sun and dryness of the desert.

Driving along the highway, I notice that even the soil is red! It's like we've arrived on Mars! _Amazing_.

Suddenly, I'm hit with an intense feeling of gratitude and love for Amelia. She really knows just how to lift my spirits. I think I'm really going to like it here.

When we reach the hotel, which is a strange mix of southwestern cowboy motifs and Spanish architecture, I am struck by the collection of people milling around. Several men are unloading from a pimped-out 4x4 pickup truck that doesn't look like it's ever seen a mud puddle, let alone the off road. They are wearing standard issue 10-gallon hats and cowboy boots, while next to them is an Aston Martin (hello James Bond!) with a young couple getting out, looking like Hollywood starlets. They are dressed in clothes that probably cost more than what I make in a year, and by designers I cannot even pronounce. Yet they seem to be just as drawn into the scenery around us as little ol' me!

Inside, our place is just magnificent. Old wagon wheels, Navajo printed blankets, stuffed elk and black bear heads adorn the walls. Racks of antlers made into chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceilings. The doors and hallway entrances are arched and accents of wrought iron are everywhere. Our room, with two queen size beds, is decorated in warm reds, oranges and browns. Ceramic tile covers the floors and the bathroom walls. The lighting is just soft enough to make you feel like this is home and the large windows give you a peek at the majestic skyline and a promise of beautiful sunsets. Yes, this is going to be a great holiday.

There are several restaurants nearby, including two attached to the hotel. The one we decide on is modeled after the movie Urban Cowboy. I always liked John Travolta!

Gilley's, complete with mechanical bull, offers up atmosphere and standard American fare and sounds just fine to Amelia and me! We can't wait to eat and loosen up a little after our long journey.

The place is jumping at this early evening hour. The cowboys from the earlier 4x4 are lined up with their backs against the bar, beer mugs in their hands inspecting the front door as if waiting for the prized bull to enter the ring.

Amelia nudges me in the arm and nods towards them, "Well there you go Sooks, cowboys as far as the eyes can see. It's like your wet dream come true!"

"Amelia!" I squeal, giving her a little shove. Sometimes she is just so bold. Her comment makes my face flush hot. Even with my tanned skin, I still blush quite red when I'm embarrassed. We both giggle and glance in the boys' direction while shuffling toward the bar. But then I panic and grab Amelia's arm, effectively stopping our advance.

"Wait! Shouldn't we sit at a table?" I point to several open spaces nearby.

Turning to face her, I say, "I mean I own a place like this. I know how this will go if we approach the bar with all those guys standing 'round. I'm not sure I'm ready for that scene yet." I'm looking Amelia in the eyes, pleading with her to understand.

"I'm afraid to get too close to temptation, you know...feeling a little raw still from Bill 'I was hiking the Appalachian Trail' Compton."

But just as I get the words out of my mouth, a tall mountain of muscle comes waltzing into the bar. He's wearing a crisp white button down shirt that seems to be straining to stay buttoned around his broad chest. The sleeves are rolled up to just above his elbows, revealing his well defined forearms. His jeans are low rise and snug through the hips and thighs and faded to a light shade of blue denim. There are strategic rips and frays in the thigh area and his waist is accentuated with a large oval-shaped belt buckle that appears to have a sheriff's star in the middle (not that I'm looking that closely at his...buckle!)

He has blond hair, similar to my own shade, and piercing blue eyes that appear to be heat-seeking missiles, because they have just landed on my stunned face.

"What's wrong?" Amelia asks and turns to see where my focus has suddenly shifted to.

"Oh my! If that isn't a cowboy fantasy come true! I knew this was just the right place to bring you!" she squeals, grabbing my hand and dropping us into the first seats she finds.

Neither of us takes our eyes off this cowboy god who seems to have stolen the air from the room. His eyes twinkle, and he throws us a sexy-as-hell crooked smile. He winks and then struts towards the bar.

"Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea, did he just wink at us?" I gulp. "I think I need a drink and fast!"

"I second that," Amelia gasps, looking around the room for the nearest server to take our order.

Sheriff McHottie is talking to the boys lined up at the bar, and they all seem to be suddenly staring in our direction.

"Where the hell is all the wait staff 'round here?" I exclaim. Their stares are making me nervous, my mouth dry, and my panties wet. Something about that man awakens the butterflies in my stomach.

Finally we get a server to take our order, and he returns with a smirk on his face. "Your drinks are on the house. Enjoy!" he states before he abruptly turns away.

We look at each other questioningly, shrug, and line up our shots of tequila.

Lifting our first ones in a toast, Amelia says:

"Here's to the cowboys in 10-gallon hats..." (She raises her glass towards the bar)

"To Bill, who is a fucking pratt..." (She raises her glass towards me)

We toss one back and pick up the next.

"Here's to that stud with the Sheriff's buckle..." (She raises her glass towards Sheriff McHottie)

"Whom we all wish to suckle..." (And winks at him)

We toss back the next and get a hold of the third.

"Here's to our wild-west excursion..." (Back to me)

"And to hopes of excessive perversion..." (Winks at me)

Back goes the third, up in the air is our last.

"Here's to all the good we've tasted..." (Seductively licks her lips)

"Now let's go get fucking wasted!!!"

The sound of our boisterous giggles and clinking glasses echoes through the bar. The roar of the jukebox, the hootin' and hollerin' around the mechanical bull, and the clapping hands of our personal cowboy audience fill our ears as our shots fill our stomachs with liquid courage.

Several more shots and the encouragement of our new entourage of local yokels have convinced us that it's a good idea to try out the mechanical bull. Bets are placed and wagers of which one of us will outlast the other on that thing have made this a competition between best friends.

Amelia and I are highly competitive. And a division is formed among our group. Those on Amelia's side are huddled in the corner by the music, giving her pointers, I suppose, on how best to hang on. Over by the dance floor, I'm encircled by several good-looking cowboys whose names I can't seem to remember. I believe they're Calvin, Alcide and Clancy. Sheriff

McHottie is back behind the bar like he owns the place, making sure both camps have enough to drink throughout our Battle Royale.

Some cowboy named Bob from Amelia's camp has decided to play M.C. He announces that the game is simple. It's a test of wills…who can stay on for 30 seconds at each level.

Whoever gets thrown off first obviously loses. It's unclear what the winner actually gets, but I'm pretty toasty with all the shots I've downed, so I really don't care. All I'm thinking about is how I'm going to kick Amelia's ass!

Alcide and Calvin give me tips: (1) Hold out my left hand for balance. Let it sway in the opposite direction the bull throws me. (2) Squeeze my knees and legs into the body of the bull while keeping my upper body loose. (3) And hold on for dear life.

Sounds easy enough!

Amelia goes first, and we suddenly have the full attention of the bar patrons. There is a significant crowd gathering around the bull riding area. "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" is blaring from the jukebox. My best friend hops up with one leather glove on her right hand, and she grabs on to the horn of the saddle. The bull starts spinning to the left and then quickly to the right. Her hair swings from side to side in a seductive manner. _Hopefully she falls off too_, I wish, listening to Joe Nichols singing about his girlfriend.

All too quickly her 30 seconds are up. And with no such luck… she didn't fall off.

Next it's me. In for a penny, in for a pound, as my Gran always said.

Amelia waltzes by, shooting me the arched eyebrow glare as if to say _Bring it on, Bitch_. And that's precisely what I intend to do.

I hop up on the bull, and Sheriff McHottie brings over a Stetson and a shot. "Put this in your free hand," he orders, as he presents me the hat. "And put this one down the hatch," he says, passing over the shot of Patron.

The bull starts with a swing to the right, thrusting my lower body forward. Oh!

Then to the left and another thrust. Oh! Oh!

Next, I find myself spinning around, and I have to close my eyes so I don't get dizzy. It makes me wonder how figure skaters are able to spin around on the ice without falling over.

The hat I'm holding in my free hand is actually helping with my balance. That must be why McHottie gave it to me. Nice! But my boobs are bouncing every which direction. And my thighs are jiggling a little. I don't think Amelia looked like that. Huh.

30 seconds of all these brief drunken thoughts, and I'm through round one.

_That wasn't so hard! _ I hop off and receive high fives and pats on the back from my band of brothers. _This is actually fun!_

Sheriff McHottie is shooting me lustful looks. Damn, all that jiggling. No wonder why they all wanted us to do this. Pervs!

The next two rounds are just about the same, a little spinning from side to side...a little jerking from front to back, jiggling, grinding, some more tossing about and a little bouncing.

By the fourth round I have major sex hair, my panties are so far up my crotch I think I'll need pliers to free them, and Amelia's cheeks are a nice rosy shade of pink. I would swear she's had an orgasm.

That's interesting.

OK, my turn. I'm on the bull, McHottie's Stetson in my free hand, and I start to sway. "Devil Went Down to Georgia" (Charlie Daniels) blares through the speakers. The bull starts to buck, just lightly at first but then faster. The front bucks up, tossing my head back as if I'm in the throes of passion. I moan a little. Then it bucks from the back, rocking my hips forward and thrusting my chest out in front of me. Again, I can't help but let a little moan escape my lips. Then it repeats its steps, slamming me from the front and then from the back. I'm moaning with every thrust. I'm getting wet from getting thrown around like this. This is way better than sex with Bill!

The faster the fiddle plays in the song, the harder the thrusts from the bull.

Somehow I stay on throughout the ride. I'm feeling fully ravaged when the bull comes to a stop. I look up from in between locks of my hair and see all male eyes glued to me. I must look like how I feel because the desire I see in return is unmistakable.

My legs feel a little shaky from hanging on so tightly during that last round, and I wind up tumbling off the bull and right into the waiting arms of McHottie. Wow! He's so solid, truly a mountain of muscle. And he smells wonderful. There's something fierce and wild about the scent, but also something safe.

He lifts my chin so that I am forced to look directly into his eyes. I just want to go live there. They are so beautiful and inviting.

"Are you OK?" he asks in a husky voice. I feel a distinct hardness press into my lower abdomen, and it is not his belt buckle! Yikes! Yahoo! Yum!

"Yeah, thanks for catching me. I think I might forfeit the next round before I break something though," I say, not letting go of his arms as if I'm still on that bull and holding on for dear life.

"You need another drink... something non-alcoholic to give you some energy and put you to rights," he suggests.

"I think I need to go lay down," I blurt out, not thinking about how that may sound.

Reluctantly, I let go of McHottie and look around for Amelia. She looks even more ravaged than I do. And she is eye-balling Alcide's ass. Uh. No. I know that look! She is such a minx!

"Amelia! What do you say we call it a draw and go get something cool to drink? Maybe sit down for a spell?" I suggest.

"Yeah, I'm exhausted!" Amelia huffs out, swiping her hand across her forehead.

Bob calls it a tie, and we all retreat to the bar, where McHottie is sliding various drinks down the line to their respective owners. He comes to stand in front of me and slides me a strange-looking drink.

"It's RockStar mixed with a bit of Vitamin Water. It will give you a little kick and hydrate you at the same time. Plus, the water takes the sugary edge off a bit," McHottie states.

"So do you own this place or somethin'? You seem pretty comfortable 'round here, givin' out drinks and orders," I ask him, a bit curious about the enigma before me.

Placing his elbows on the bar, he leans in a little closer to me.

"Yes. I do own this place. My family actually owns the chain of hotels, and it's my job to come up with suitable themed restaurants to go with each hotel. But Sedona is my favorite place in the states to stay during the fall and winter months. The weather is just about perfect. And the guests are pretty entertaining too," he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.

"So what's your story? Where are you visiting from anyway? And how long you here for?"

Now it seems to be his turn to satisfy his curiosity. But with all the alcohol and erotic moving on the bull, chit-chat is the last thing on my mind. Plus out of the corner of my eye, I see Amelia starting to take off with Alcide. Hopefully they are not going to our room....

"Yeah, I'm a guest here for the next four days. When do you get off?"

Well that didn't come out right and by the looks of McHottie's face, he took it the way it sounded!

Shaking my head from side to side, I clarify "Ummm....I mean, you know, are you working until late? I'm Sookie by the way, in case you didn't catch that earlier. What's your name again?" I say offering my hand for a shake, like the polite southern gal that I am.

I honestly have been calling him Sheriff McHottie in my head for so long that I don't even realize that I have no idea what his real name is! And I just propositioned him!

He startles me by hopping over the bar and says, "Right now. I'm Eric, by the way. Eric Northman. Nice to meet you, Sookie!"

He places his arm around my waist and spins me off the stool I've been

sitting on then guides me towards the door.

Now, as I've already told you, Miss Sookie Stackhouse is not real experienced in the romance department. And I'm definitely not well-versed in the 'One Night Stand' arena, but this guy has me under some kind of spell. It's like he has hypnotized me and is bending me to his will. And bending is what I want to do for him! Along with several other things that come to mind.

I bring him back to my hotel room, praying that Amelia is not there with Alcide.

Dang! We should have worked out some kind of sign like college kids do... sock on the door or code word on a sticky note...Even the 'Do Not Disturb' sign... But we didn't, so I cross my fingers as I slide the room key into the card reader.

Holding my breath, I slowly open the door and flick on the light switch.

I think we are both pleasantly surprised and a little relieved that Amelia appears to have gone with Alcide. I decide that I should put the little sign out, just in case she comes back. Hopefully she pays attention to the door knob if she does return.

Turning back from placing the appropriate door hanger, I am bombarded with soft warm lips against mine. My back gets pushed up against the door, and I'm a bit disoriented by the sudden movements. But I quickly regain my bearings and relax into it.

I must say, Eric Northman is an awe-inspiring kisser. He must have lots of experience, especially if this is the norm for him (picking up vacationers in his bar). But I try not to think too much about that and enjoy the toe-curling feeling that's making its way between my legs and into the pit of my stomach.

I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my hands around his neck and just go for it. The emotions he's stirring from just kissing me are so intense that I can't even imagine what it would be like to do other things with this god of a man.

Eric walks us (backward) away from the door, towards the center of the room. While I am still attached to him like a barnacle, he turns around and places me gently down on top of one of the queen-sized beds.

He steps back to take a longing look at me. He seems to be appraising what he sees. Whether it's the swell of my breasts or the roundness of my hips or the curves of my thighs, he appears to appreciate the view.

With a sultry smile he backs away slightly and starts to unbutton his shirt slowly, pulling out the tucked-in bits from his jeans. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, I get my first full view of a gloriously toned chest. Every bit of him is taut muscle. And those muscles ripple with every move he makes.

He rubs his large hands across his chest, making his nipples harden into perfect little fleshy points. It makes my mouth water. I want to feel them between my teeth, on my tongue.

"Like what you see, Lover?" Eric teases. I guess it's pretty obvious that I'm turned on.

_Am I drooling?_ I wonder before I move the back of my hand across my mouth to make sure.

Unconsciously, I run one hand across my chest and slide the other across my upper thigh and rest it between my legs.

I wiggle a little trying to get the seam of my jeans to create some friction where I need it most right now.

Eric moans and kneels down on the bed beside me.

I sit up and kiss him lightly on the lips, then the chin, down his neck, across his Adam's Apple and the base of his throat. His taste is intoxicating, something between salty fries and the bitterest dark chocolate.

I continue kissing down his chest until I reach his left nipple. I suck it into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it. Then I release it to blow a little air on it. This elicits a deep moan from Eric. It almost seems like a growl and reverberates in his chest. I proceed to work my way over to the other nipple and indulge in the same temptation.

This time he grabs the back of my head and gently pushes it back to his nipple, where my teeth latch on and nibble and suck.

Releasing his grip, his hands work to untie my halter top's knot tied loosely around my neck, under my hair. He caresses the back of my neck with one hand while the other one pulls the straps away to allow my shirt to cascade down around my waist, revealing my strapless bra. His hands follow his gaze as he takes in my natural bounty.

I bend his head down so that our lips can meet in a tender embrace, while I reach up to undo the front clasp of my bra.

Eric moans into my mouth when he feels me release my breasts from captivity. And his hands move immediately to cup them. It says a lot for the size of his hands that he is able to completely enfold each one without letting any go to waste, being a D cup since puberty.

His thumbs brush over my painfully erect nipples. They are just begging to be nipped and sucked, but he has other plans.

Eric smoothly glides each of his hands over the fullness of my breasts, purposely avoiding my nipples. Then he lightly kisses the sides. Dragging his lips and tongue as he moves around and in between, he blows air on the little wet spots he leaves behind.

I'm writhing with need, trying to create friction from just about anything. I slide my hands down his back and around to the front of his jeans. And I encounter that damned belt buckle. How the hell am I supposed to get anything done with that in the way?

Eric kisses his way back up to my ear and whispers, "Impatient, Lover? Would you like some help?"

He gathers one of my hands, running his thumb across my palm, while his other one works to unleash the monster (I mean his buckle).

Once that is accomplished, I push him back on the bed with my free hand and start exploring, first with my hand, then following close behind with my tongue.

I make it to his 'happy trail,' that glorious trail of soft curls leading south, and pause long enough to unbutton and unzip his pants.

Tada! There is the real monster. The only word that comes to mind is stunning!

Of course, someone like Eric would go commando. Maybe that's even the cowboy way. That's how I've always fantasized about them, anyway. Who needs constriction when you're roaming free on the range with your dependable steed and maybe a trusty dog like Lassie by your side?

I digress. I was talking about stunning.

I wrap my hand around it (as far as my hand will go around it, anyway), and give it a little stroke, stroke.

It's so hot and hard that I lose my mind a little trying to decide what I want to do with it first.

I push his pants down to the tops of his boots (beautiful custom snake-skin ones, I dare guess), taking in all his beautiful glory before I remember my earlier thoughts about how he must do this all of the time.

So safe sex is definitely best in this situation. Amelia brought a bag of goodies with her she called the "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun without Consequences" bag. Now, where did she put it?

"Ummm. I have some stuff for us in one of our bags. Do you mind waiting just a sec?" I say, trying to make an awkward position sound sexy.

As smart as it is to be safe, it really puts a damper on your mood if not planned accordingly. I hope he doesn't bolt.

He just gets a big ol' smile on his face, places his hands behind his head and lays there, spread eagle. "That's fine."

OK then. Apparently as long as he gets some, it doesn't matter if I go for a smoke break first. Interesting.

I quickly locate everything I need (a couple of condoms, a little lubrication, just in case). I walk back over to the bed and place my supplies by his outstretched legs.

"Alrighty. Where was I?" I purr.

I opt to go with a little of Amelia's special lube to start things back up again. I rub a little between my hands, and they immediately warm up. Hmmm. This should be good.

I wrap my right hand around the 'One-Eyed Wonder Worm' (I can't help but call a guy's thing funny words!) and massage it slowly from base to tip to base again. I add my other hand to fondle his manjigglies (see what I mean!).

Moans of appreciation and encouragement resonate from my now captive Sheriff.

When I think he is just about ready to lose it, he grabs my hands and pulls me up to him. We share a searing kiss, while his hands wander. He makes haste with the removal of the rest of our clothes, readying us for what is to come.

And cum I did…multiple times.

Laying in post-coital bliss, Eric takes the hand I have resting on his chest and starts kissing the palm and the tip of each finger. It's gentle but erotic at the same time; I get more butterflies from the sensation.

"Let's watch the sunrise together," he whispers in my ear.

We set ourselves up in front of the window of my room, wrapped in a large Navajo printed blanket, snuggled into a large cowhide loveseat. The view before us is classic cowboy artistry.

The sun is peeking up over Cathedral Rock, the most photographed rock formation here in Sedona. The sky is pink and orange, and the Saguaro cacti are casting strange multi-armed shadows across the red desert floor. All that's needed are some tumbleweeds and a couple of long-horned cattle grazing on the meager offerings of vegetation to make the setting perfect.

It seems that Amelia was right about Sedona: my body and soul really have been renewed. And as I snuggle in closer to my newly-claimed southwestern cowboy, Sheriff Eric "McHottie," I swear I hear the beginning riffs of "Tequila Sunrise."

Perfect.


End file.
